Severing Ties

The rhythmic, heavy thud of luggage wheels hitting marble stairs echoed through the sprawling Thorne residence. Valerie Vance did not bother lifting the heavy suitcase. She let it drag behind her, the harsh sound serving as a fitting end to her time in this suffocating cage.

"Hey, my dear sister-in-law, what are you doing? Are you trying to run away from home?"

Bianca Thorne’s shrill, mocking voice cut through the morning quiet. She leaned casually against the mahogany banister, a malicious smirk twisting her lips.

Valerie did not break her stride. She offered the younger woman a brief, dismissive glance before continuing her descent down the grand staircase.

Waiting at the bottom of the steps was Evelyn Gable, Dominic Thorne’s mother. The matriarch stood rigid, her posture dripping with the familiar disdain she reserved exclusively for her daughter-in-law.

"Where are you going with that suitcase so early in the morning?" Evelyn demanded, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.

For three long years, Valerie had played the role of the perfect, obedient wife. She knew this tone. It was Evelyn’s opening move to corner her, demean her, and remind her of her low status. Under normal circumstances, Valerie would lower her head, offer a soft apology, and do whatever it took to pacify the older woman.

Not today.

Today, Valerie did not even want Dominic anymore. Why should she waste another breath tip-toeing around his arrogant, ill-tempered mother?

"Anywhere is better than this place," Valerie said, her voice steady and calm. She stopped at the final step, leveling her gaze with Evelyn. "Don't worry, Mrs. Thorne. I won't step foot in the Thorne residence ever again."

The gentle, submissive mask she had worn for thirty-six months shattered. Her words carried a mild tone, but her eyes held a freezing detachment. The desperate flattery that used to soften her features was gone, replaced by a chilling indifference.

Evelyn blinked, taken aback. She was accustomed to a meek, groveling girl, not this icy stranger. Her expression darkened into a harsh scowl. "Valerie Vance, is this the way you speak to your elders?"

"I'll treat you exactly the way you treat me."

The unapologetic arrogance in Valerie's eyes ignited Evelyn’s fury. "Valerie! Am I still your mother-in-law or not?"

Valerie’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "Sorry, but soon, you won't be anymore."

Outside the grand double doors, a sharp car horn pierced the air.

Valerie arched an elegant brow, adjusting her grip on the suitcase handle. "I'm leaving now, Mrs. Thorne. Whatever I've left in my room is trash I no longer want. Throw it out, burn it—do whatever you please. There's just one thing I require from you. Do not contact me again."

She breezed past the stunned matriarch, her heels clicking decisively against the polished floorboards. Before pushing the heavy oak doors open, she paused and glanced over her shoulder.

"You Thornes are plain disgusting."

Evelyn stood frozen, the sheer audacity of the insult rendering her speechless. Before she could process the reality of Valerie cutting ties, the blatant disrespect sent her over the edge. "Valerie Vance, have you lost your mind? Believe it or not, I will tell Dom that you—"

"Mom, did you see her?" Bianca sauntered down the remaining stairs, laughing in disbelief. She tugged at Evelyn’s sleeve. "She’s such a joke. Dragging a suitcase out at the crack of dawn? Hahaha! She probably thought I’d beg her to stay when she walked past me."

Evelyn remained motionless, her face a complicated mask of shock and anger. In the past, merely dropping Dominic's name was enough to make Valerie submit. Today, Valerie had simply walked out without a second glance.

Through the open doors, a sleek sports car roared to life and sped off. By the time Evelyn stumbled to the entrance, only the fading exhaust fumes remained.

"She... she actually left?"

Bianca rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "So what if she did? Chloe is back. Even if Valerie stayed, Dominic was going to kick her to the curb anyway."

Evelyn slowly nodded. Her daughter was right. The youngest daughter of the Frost family had returned. If Valerie had any brain cells left, divorcing Dominic on her own terms was the only smart move left to make.

Inside the roaring Porsche, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the Thorne mansion. Valerie sat in the passenger seat, the suffocating tension finally leaving her shoulders. She stared down at the crisp white pages resting on her lap. The bold letters at the top read: Divorce Agreement.

She flipped through the familiar clauses one last time, making sure every detail was intact. Pulling a sleek pen from her bag, she pressed the tip to the paper and signed her name with decisive, fluid strokes.

Melanie Hayes tapped her manicured fingers against the steering wheel, casting a sideways glance at her best friend. "Are you truly sure about this? You look like you aren't hesitating at all."

Valerie capped the pen with a soft click. "Of course."

There was no point in holding onto a dead dream. Dominic’s first love had returned. The writing was on the wall.

Three years. It felt like an eternity, yet it had passed in the blink of an eye. For thirty-six months, Valerie foolishly believed her warmth could melt the thick ice encasing his heart. She poured everything she had into being the perfect wife, tending to his every need, weathering the relentless abuse of his family. But Dominic did not have a heart to give.

He had locked it away and handed the key to Chloe Frost.

Looking back, Valerie realized how pathetic she must have seemed. She had practically forced this marriage on him. When the Thorne family owed her a life-saving favor, she had cashed it in for the title of "Mrs. Thorne." She anchored him to a marriage he never wanted. Now that Chloe was back, stepping aside was the only logical choice. If she stayed, Dominic's stubborn dedication to remaining untouched for Chloe over the past three years would be for nothing.

That was the most agonizing secret of all. For three years of marriage, they had never shared a bed. It was a chaste, loveless arrangement.

It was a twisted stroke of luck that the media and the socialites never uncovered the truth of their bedroom. If those vultures, who already mocked her for climbing the social ladder, found out her own husband refused to touch her, they would have ripped her to shreds.

It has been three years. That is more than enough to bury a seven-year unrequited love.

Valerie turned her head toward the passenger window, watching the blur of city streets. Her chest tightened, an unbearable ache rising in her throat. She lifted a hand, pressing her fingers over her eyes to catch the hot tears slipping down her cheeks. She kept her face turned away, hiding her silent breakdown from Melanie.

She was still flesh and blood. She could put up a cold front, but ripping a seven-year love out of her heart by the roots was an agonizing process. The terrible closure of her feelings was enough to shatter anyone's composure.

She let the tears fall quietly. Then, she wiped her face clean, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

By the time the red Porsche pulled to a smooth stop outside the towering glass structure of Apex Headquarters, Valerie’s eyes were dry, her expression forged in steel.

Melanie pushed her designer sunglasses up into her hair and flashed a supportive grin. "We're here. Go get him, Val. I’m right behind you, always!" She blew a dramatic flying kiss across the console.

A genuine chuckle escaped Valerie’s lips. "Alright. I'm marching onto the battlefield."

It really did feel like a war zone. Figuring out how to slap these divorce papers onto Dominic's desk with maximum elegance and domineering flair was going to require focus.

Valerie stepped out of the sports car, the divorce agreement clutched securely in her hand. The morning sun glinted off the imposing Apex building.

She walked through the revolving glass doors, her floral-patterned skirt flowing gracefully around her legs. She had visited Apex countless times. She knew the layout, the security protocol, and the dismissive attitude of the staff.

She approached the sleek marble front desk.

The receptionist barely looked up from her monitor, offering a practiced, plastic smile. "Ms. Vance, you cannot go up without an appointment. Mr. Thorne is a busy man. If everyone gets to meet him without making an appointment, what would be the point of him having a receptionist?"

Valerie paused. Her grip on the documents tightened.

Ms. Vance.

Not Mrs. Thorne. Even a receptionist felt emboldened to put her in her place. For three years, the staff here had blatantly refused to acknowledge her marital status. It was a direct reflection of Dominic’s attitude toward her. He never treated her as someone of importance, so his employees followed suit.

In the past, Valerie would have offered a polite smile, perhaps pleaded softly, or just turned around to wait in the lobby.

Instead, she lowered her eyes, a cold laugh escaping her lips. When she looked up, her gaze was like a striking viper.

"Apex's employees truly lack training," Valerie said, her voice dropping to a frigid, carrying pitch. "Even Dominic's own wife requires an appointment to see him. It seems quite worthless to be his wife."

The receptionist’s jaw dropped, her smug expression shattering into pieces.

Valerie did not wait for a response. She shot the woman one final, freezing glare before turning on her heel and striding straight toward the executive elevators. Her posture was flawless, her icy resolve radiating with every step she took past the security checkpoints.

It was the very first time anyone at Apex had seen the usually meek Valerie act with such fierce authority. The receptionist sat stunned. When she finally snapped back to reality, panic set in. She grabbed the desk phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed the top floor to warn them.

High above the city, in the sprawling executive office, Dominic Thorne stood behind his custom desk. He listened to the urgent beep of his intercom.

His striking face tightened into a scowl. "I'm not meeting her," he commanded, his voice a low, unforgiving rumble.

He had a brief meeting scheduled in exactly five minutes. He had no time to deal with Valerie today.

Mr. Reed, his secretary, nodded sharply. He turned and strode toward the heavy double doors of the office. He reached for the handle, pulling the door inward.

He froze.

Valerie was already standing there in her elegant heels. She wore her gentle flower-patterned skirt, but the moment Reed met her eyes, a shiver ran down his spine. The submissive woman who used to bring lunchboxes to this floor was gone.

"Mr. Reed," Valerie greeted, her tone clipped.

Before the stunned secretary could open his mouth to relay Dominic’s refusal, Valerie stepped forward. She reached out, gripping the edge of the door, and pushed it wide open, bypassing Reed entirely.

She stepped into the cavernous office, her heels sinking into the plush carpet.

Dominic looked up, his dark eyes narrowing at the intrusion. He opened his mouth to issue a harsh reprimand, but Valerie did not give him the chance.

"Sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Thorne," she said, her voice echoing clearly in the quiet room. "I have an agreement that I need your signature for."

She marched straight to his massive desk, her gaze locked dead onto his.

Reaching the edge of the polished wood, she raised her hand and let the thick stack of papers drop. They hit the desk with a heavy smack, sliding to a halt directly in front of his hands.

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes boring into his, and issued her final demand.

"Sign it."